


The Glory of the Stars and the Innocence of Morning

by valda



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, First Time, M/M, Mind Reading, Secret Identity, Sexual Fantasy, Star-crossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:07:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21616567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valda/pseuds/valda
Summary: 27 years after Darth Vader came to Cloud City in order to find Luke Skywalker, Kylo Ren has come for the same purpose. The mission should be simple...so long as he can keep Ben Solo’s memories from interfering.
Relationships: Lando Calrissian/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Lando Calrissian/Kylo Ren
Comments: 21
Kudos: 20
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2019





	The Glory of the Stars and the Innocence of Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yujacheong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yujacheong/gifts).



> yujacheong, this fic is for you! I was intrigued and inspired by all your requests; I hope you enjoy this. :)

The _Upsilon_ command shuttle cut cleanly through the abundance of pastel pink and orange cloud cover blocking its pilot’s visual scanning. A remarkable piece of modern engineering, the shuttle’s smooth descent was unaffected by the strong winds buffeting it from all sides, and of course its navigation systems kept it well clear of obstacles or other ships.

In his seat behind the pilot and navigator chairs, Kylo Ren gripped the edge of his seat cushion with gloved hands, hard enough that the leather quietly creaked. But the Dark Side acolyte and First Order enforcer was unconcerned by the weather systems provoked by the swirling gases of the planet below. His was a more complex and intangible uneasiness.

“We’re cleared to land, sir,” the pilot announced.

“Bring us in,” Kylo said, his voice low and monotone and garbled by the modulator in his grim black mask.

The shuttle broke free of the clouds, and between the pilot and navigator’s heads Kylo saw, for the first time, the floating city: suspended impossibly high in the clouds like a squat spinner top or spindle, the disc-like mining colony glittered with lights, a slim reactor stalk stretching out below it to disappear into the lower atmosphere.

Five years ago, a foolish boy had seen this sight for the last time. Now, that boy was dead.

~

The man waiting on the landing pad to receive Kylo didn’t appear nervous. He had an easy smile and a flamboyant costume, shirt in a dark green that shone enough that it must be shimmersilk, black pressed slacks, black shoes with a modest heel, purple velvet cape that flapped around him in the wind. He’d brought an entourage, a fact that betrayed more than his face did. On his right flank stood his cybernetically enhanced aide, and arrayed behind him were six members of the Bespin Wing Guard. From what Kylo knew, the dark blue uniforms and silver blasters of Cloud City’s security force were essentially exactly the same as they’d been 27 years ago, when a different Dark Sider, a Sith Lord, had come to visit.

It hadn’t escaped Kylo that the circumstances of his visit were very similar to those of his grandfather’s. But Baron Administrator Lando Calrissian was a man who lived in the past: same city, same aide, same guards, and apparently the same smooth demeanor. Perhaps he’d enjoy the symmetry.

Kylo brought the shuttle’s command staff and stormtroopers along when he headed down the ramp. He stopped briefly at the foot to evaluate the capabilities of the welcoming party: The guards held their blasters properly, but they didn’t appear to be particularly disciplined. Calrissian was, as expected, armed with an ancient X-8 Night Sniper model blaster, which was holstered to his hip. None of them posed a real threat. If Kylo wanted to, he could take them all himself.

Signaling his people to follow, Kylo continued through the shuttle’s blasts of white, puffy exhaust and stalked across the landing pad. He didn’t stop until he was close enough to Calrissian that the shorter man would have to look up to greet him.

Ever the gentleman, Calrissian tipped his head back and attempted to focus his eyes on the black, empty eyehole of Kylo’s mask. “Welcome,” he said. There was nothing but friendliness on his face, but Kylo sensed a spike of anxiety rising in the man’s chest. “Mister...”

“Kylo Ren,” Kylo said flatly, “of the First Order. You may refer to me as ‘Ren’ or ‘sir’. We have much to discuss. Prepare rooms for my soldiers and officers and another room for myself for the next week.”

“How many—” Calrissian began, but Kylo cut him off impatiently with a raised hand, which he then gestured at one of the uniformed officers behind him.

“The lieutenant will handle the details.” Kylo knew the numbers—a platoon of 36 in the troop transports, plus the ten soldiers he’d brought on the shuttle, plus the four shuttle officers—but logistics were not important. “I’m sure you’d prefer to meet immediately and discuss the broader issue.”

At this, Calrissian swallowed, and Kylo sensed he was resisting the urge to raise a hand to his throat. It wasn’t as satisfying as Kylo might have expected. “Yes, of course,” Calrissian said. “If you’ll come with me, there’s a reception room at the top of the city that should suit our needs. Please bring whomever you’d like. Lobot,” he added, glancing to his aide, “please see to the sleeping arrangements, and send some refreshments up to room L3.” Calrissian turned back to Kylo and waved a hand expansively toward the hatchway leading into the city. “Shall we?”

Kylo nodded to the chief petty officer who was to serve as his own aide, then gestured to his ten hand-picked troopers. Four broke off to join him; the rest would guard the other three officers. With that settled Kylo started walking, making Calrissian scramble to stay at his side.

~

“Cloud City is well known for our highly productive Tibanna gas mining and processing facilities, but we’re also a leader in droid and cybernetics manufacturing,” Calrissian said as the group disembarked from a large turbolift. “And of course there’s the luxury resort and casino, which is where we’re headed now. No better place to entertain guests.”

Kylo wouldn’t call what Calrissian was doing babbling, necessarily, but the baron administrator did seem uncomfortable. Kylo should have been happy that his presence was having the intended effect, but instead he was starting to feel uncomfortable himself. “Spare me the sales pitch,” he interrupted finally. “That’s not why I’m here.”

Calrissian glanced at Kylo, his curiosity apparently getting the better of him. “May I ask—”

“We’ll talk when we have privacy,” Kylo said.

The balance of the walk to the reception room was silent save for the pounding staccato of stormtrooper boots on the smooth, shiny floors of the city’s public walkways and the hushed whispers and scuttling feet of citizens, workers, and visitors rushing to get out of their way. Myriad sentient species were in residence here. The First Order’s visit would not go unnoticed, could not by its very nature...but it would be a peaceful one, one in which the New Republic would be able to find no fault. Either Calrissian would give them what they wanted, or Kylo would take it from him, but either way, no one would remember anything but what reasonable, polite guests the First Order had been.

Room L3 turned out to be a small office with just one tiny window. There was a table at the center with four chairs around it, leaving barely enough space along the walls for Calrissian’s security and Kylo’s stormtroopers to flank the room. Kylo left two of his stormtroopers outside the door and ordered the other two into positions near the window, creating unobstructed firing lines between their blasters and the seat Calrissian had chosen. Two Bespin Wing Guard members also remained; they stood flanking Calrissian’s chair.

An Ugnaught arrived shortly after Kylo and Calrissian sat down, offering them a selection of drinks. After that, a human set an hors d’oeuvres assortment at the center of the table. Calrissian accepted a bright blue beverage, Kylo’s aide chose water, and Kylo himself waved the refreshments away. The servers slipped out of the room as unobtrusively as they had entered, the door sliding quietly closed behind them.

“Only organics serve guests in this room,” Calrissian remarked, as if Kylo cared how he delegated his waitstaff. The man seemed committed to his congeniality, to maintaining the illusion that he stood on equal footing with the First Order and was in a position to negotiate.

But then Calrissian added, almost to himself, “I come here when I need to keep my head on straight,” and Kylo realized with a jolt what was really happening.

“L3,” he said without thinking. Calrissian blinked, his eyebrows going together, and Kylo hastily added, “Is there a significance to the name?” After all, Kylo Ren didn’t know that L3-37 had been Lando’s partner—more than a partner—until her chassis had been destroyed during a droid uprising, decades ago. Kylo Ren didn’t know how much Lando had relied on L3, depended on her.

Kylo Ren didn’t know that Lando had been despondent after the loss of L3’s chassis, careless; that he’d treated what was left of her like a sabacc chip; that Han Solo had thoughtlessly stolen her away. Kylo Ren didn’t know that Lando still hated himself for that, and he didn’t know that Lando had kept those feelings from Han.

Kylo Ren certainly hadn’t spent a fair chunk of his childhood attempting to liberate L3 from the _Millennium Falcon_ ’s navicomputer. Nor did he care that the dead boy had, with no success.

“Oh,” Calrissian said, his face blank, “no, not particularly. We have lots of rooms with alphanumeric names.” His demeanor was perfectly casual, but Kylo felt curiosity and suspicion simmering behind his rich brown eyes.

Kylo tightened his fist, determined to correct the slip. “Luke Skywalker,” he said, both to catch Calrissian off guard and to get the conversation to its actual topic.

“What?” Calrissian asked, and Kylo sensed another spike of fear.

“Where is Luke Skywalker?” Kylo leaned forward in his chair. “That is why I am here, Baron Administrator Calrissian. And you will tell me everything I want to know.”

This time, Calrissian wasn’t able to stop himself from raising shaky fingers to his throat. He quickly moved them away, folding his hands on the tabletop. “And what does the First Order want with Luke?” he asked, voice deceptively pleasant.

“To talk,” Kylo lied.

Calrissian raised an eyebrow. “About?”

“The destruction of his Jedi Temple,” Kylo said, the words coming out low and mercifully even through the modulator. “We’ve been attempting to contact him ever since.”

Calrissian’s friendly smile evaporated. “To take credit?” he asked.

“Bold,” Kylo intoned. He wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or impressed. “And perhaps not an unwarranted suspicion, given the company you once kept,” he added cuttingly. Calrissian’s lips twitched. “But no,” Kylo continued. “This is community outreach. The First Order exists to bring peace and prosperity to the galaxy. We would like to offer our assistance in rebuilding. Perhaps make some security recommendations.”

While this characterization of the First Order’s mission wasn’t too far from reality, the re-establishment of Luke Skywalker’s Jedi Temple was certainly not one of their goals. They had no intention of helping him and every intention of killing him. But blending lies with truth was the best path to believability.

Of course, the man across the table from Kylo knew that better than almost anyone.

Calrissian gave Kylo a strained smile. There was something roiling in his emotions that Kylo couldn’t quite identify. “But why rebuild?” he asked. “Surely you’ve heard there’s no one left to train.”

It was a true statement, and an obvious one, but somehow Kylo’s eyes went out of focus anyway. He could feel Calrissian gazing at him, but it was as if he were far further away than simply across the table.

Kylo’s helmet did more than hide his identity and protect his skull. It also filtered out airborne toxins, a useful feature that had the less-useful side effect of reducing smells. Behind his mask, Kylo couldn’t smell much of anything that wasn’t right in front of the faceplate.

Right now, though, it was as if he were being choked by odors, smells coming together, mingling, overlapping each other, overwhelming his nostrils and filling his throat. Cleansing rain and earthy mud. The smothering stench of burning wood and smoldering fabric. The ozone tang of a lightsaber blade.

The sickly-sweet scent of bodies being eaten by flame.

“It’s a big galaxy,” Kylo said after a too-long pause. “There will always be someone to train.” He rose abruptly. “I understand your...reticence, but I’m sure you will soon see that working with me is your best option. I’ll give you the rest of the day to consider my request. We’ll reconvene in the morning.”

~

Leader Snoke would not be pleased to hear that Kylo’s mission so far was a failure. He certainly would not be pleased to hear how quickly Kylo had abandoned today’s negotiations. Kylo would be careful how he presented his evening report.

The room Calrissian’s aide had prepared for him was opulent and overlarge. The bed was bigger than Kylo’s entire sleeping chamber on the _Supremacy_. He hardly knew what to do with so much space, other than use it to train.

And so that was what he did, removing his helmet and stripping down to just his trousers and running through drills that took him from one end of the room to another as he hurled punches and kicks against invisible opponents.

The room was too big, and so was its window, spanning nearly the entire length of the curved wall. It offered Kylo an expansive view of the Cloud City skyline and, beyond that, the striking skyscapes that gave it its name. When they’d arrived, the clouds were dappled pink and orange by the morning sun; now, thanks to Bespin’s six-hour day, the sky was turning red. Red was, of course, the color of the First Order: the insignia, Leader Snoke’s Praetorian guards, Kylo’s own lightsaber. But that wasn’t the association that came most easily to mind when Kylo’s eyes happened to catch on the blood-red sunset.

Kylo Ren had never been here before. But the dead boy had, and the dead boy’s memories kept stubbornly refusing to die with him.

It was sunset when the dead boy left this place for the last time. He hadn’t known it, but he had been saying goodbye forever.

Kylo trained until he was covered in sweat, until his muscles were shaking, and he did not look at the window.

~

Kylo took his evening and morning meals alone, with a few hours of fitful sleep in between. None who had come with him had ever seen his face, and he would not show them now. He would certainly not unmask in front of Calrissian, whose dinner and breakfast invitations Kylo declined politely but without hesitation.

He didn’t see the baron administrator until mid-morning of the second day, the agreed-upon time for their next meeting. They convened once again in room L3, Kylo on one side of the table and Calrissian on the other. This time, Calrissian also had his aide present.

“You’ve had time to consider my request,” Kylo said.

“Yes,” Calrissian answered, sitting back in his chair and folding his hands on the table. “Your offer is very kind indeed. I’m sure Luke will appreciate your assistance in rebuilding. I’d be happy to communicate your offer to him the next time I talk with him. Is there a way you prefer he contact you?”

Kylo ran his tongue over his teeth. Luke would never contact the First Order, and now Kylo suspected Calrissian knew it. “It would be more expedient for you to give me his location,” he said, giving the man one more chance.

“True,” Calrissian replied amiably. “But no one likes having guests show up unannounced. Anyone would be more amenable to a discussion if the other party called ahead.” He gave Kylo a winning smile that somehow soothed the sting of the insolent comment.

Calrissian’s refusal to comply was not entirely unexpected, but it wasn’t convenient either. Now Kylo had to rip the information he wanted from Calrissian’s mind, and he had to make sure no one else in Cloud City ever found out.

“I would speak with you alone, Baron Administrator,” Kylo said, voice crackling a bit as it was distorted by the modulator.

“Tonight,” Calrissian said immediately. “Dinner.”

Kylo blinked, thankful that the mask hid his face. Surely Calrissian understood the position he was in. “Dinner,” he repeated.

“I know you eat,” Calrissian said with a wink, and Kylo wasn’t sure, but it felt like the man was _teasing him_. It reminded him in a rush of the way Lando had grinned at the dead boy, told him he was handsome, touched his arm, brushed curls of hair from his forehead. Lando and the dead boy had had dinner together many times.

“I never said I didn’t,” Kylo said stupidly.

“Well then!” Calrissian said, leaning forward onto his elbow. “My rooms?”

“No. Mine,” Kylo said, because he was not going to let this smooth-talking gambler have the home advantage any more than he already did.

“Your rooms then,” Calrissian said. He straightened, pushed his chair out from the table, and stood, sweeping his cape back so that it settled properly over his shoulders and flared out behind him. “I look forward to it.” Turning, Calrissian strode out of the room. His cape billowed impressively in his wake.

Somewhat dumbfounded, Kylo stayed in his chair and watched in silence as Calrissian’s aide and guards followed him out. It only occurred to him after they were all gone that he hadn’t meant to agree to dinner at all.

Well. It would be fine. Kylo needed to be alone with Calrissian to interrogate him, anyway. Calrissian might think he’d thrown Kylo off, but they were past the time for negotiation. If it weren’t necessary to keep the First Order’s reputation clean, Kylo would take the information from Calrissian right now. As it was, a few hours of waiting were no matter. Especially since the _Absolution_ sat just outside the Anoat system, blocking all communications in and out. If Calrissian thought he’d bought himself time to call for help, he was sorely mistaken.

~

Unfortunately, postponing the interrogation until the evening meant Kylo had to wait an entire day to complete his mission. He had no interest in spending any time in the city the dead boy had visited almost every year of his life, the city that boy had foolishly thought of as his ‘real home’...but even cooped up in his guest apartment, Kylo couldn’t escape unproductive thoughts. The window was too big.

By the time the door chimed to announce Calrissian’s arrival, Kylo had been pacing the room for hours. “What?” Kylo snarled, briefly forgetting that this was what he was waiting for.

The door swished smoothly open to reveal Calrissian standing on the threshold, hands empty at his sides. “Ren,” he said. “Is now a bad time for dinner?”

“What? No,” Kylo said. He flung an arm out in a sweeping arc that approximated the direction of the suite’s dining area. There, the round, generously sized white table where Kylo had been taking his solitary meals sat at the center of a sunset-colored rug, surrounded by armless white chairs.

Calrissian stepped inside, closely followed by a protocol droid and several astromech droids of varying type. The astromechs each carried a tray laden with covered dishes. Kylo eyed the protocol droid suspiciously as it accompanied Calrissian to the table.

The astromechs offloaded their cargo and trundled toward the door in single file, taking a winding path to avoid coming too close to Kylo. They reminded him of a mismatched railcrawler, and he let out a snort of amusement. When they were gone and the door had shut behind them, Kylo twitched a finger at the door controls, engaging the lock.

“Ah,” Calrissian said. “I’d wondered.” He had pulled out a chair and was standing next to it, soft brown eyes locked on Kylo.

“What is the purpose of the protocol droid?” Kylo asked, ignoring the comment.

“I take a record of every negotiation,” Calrissian said. “If that’s not acceptable, I’m not sure we have anything more to say to each other.”

Kylo could simply destroy the droid, but it was possible Calrissian had someone listening remotely. More than possible; it was likely. Kylo felt flat-footed. “A record is acceptable,” he said, rallying. He could destroy a record. “A live broadcast is not. Allow me to examine your droid and disable any transmitters, and I will permit it to stay.”

“Her,” Calrissian said.

“Oh. Sorry,” Kylo said automatically. “Her.”

Calrissian cocked his head to the side. His eyes seemed to twinkle, and he offered Kylo a slow smile that made the back of Kylo’s neck tingle. “You know, you’re not what I expected.”

Kylo wasn’t sure if he should find this observation irritating or not. He moved toward the table. “How so?”

“You’re dressed all in black, and you brought troop carriers filled with stormtroopers,” Calrissian said. “This has happened before.” He waited for Kylo to come to a stop beside a chair before continuing. “But you’re a very different man from Darth Vader.”

Kylo gripped the back of the chair, dragging it roughly away from the table. “Am I?” he asked.

“I’m not sure how to describe it,” Calrissian said. “There’s just...something about you.”

Kylo felt his eyes straying away from Calrissian’s face. He felt oddly embarrassed. Whatever Calrissian was saying, he clearly meant it as a compliment.

“Shall we?” Calrissian asked, moving to sit down.

“The droid?” Kylo reminded him.

“Oh, yes, of course.” Calrissian turned to the protocol droid. “Lobot, I’m cutting the feed now. It’s all right.”

“Master Calrissian,” the droid interjected, “I must protest.”

“Don’t worry, Q-5. I’m safe.”

Somewhat mystified, Kylo watched as Calrissian removed a transmitter from the protocol droid’s chestpiece, switched it off, and set it on the table among the steaming dishes left by the astromechs. “You’ll allow me to confirm, of course,” Kylo said.

“Of course,” Calrissian said, perfectly smooth and calm.

As the baron administrator sat down, Kylo rounded the table to look the droid over. He found no more transmitters or any other recording devices beyond the droid’s own systems. Crouching next to Calrissian’s chair to examine the droid’s lower half, he was close enough to catch a whiff of Calrissian’s cologne: thick, sumptuous, almost sultry. Familiar. Kylo sighed without meaning to; the long exhale crackled through the voice changer, and he closed his eyes in exasperation.

The droid couldn’t transmit outside the room anymore. Kylo was effectively alone with Calrissian. It was time. He’d get this done, and then he’d get out of here.

“Do you ever take off that helmet?” Calrissian asked conversationally.

“No,” Kylo said.

“Why not?”

Kylo rose to his feet, taking one step away from Calrissian’s chair. He could do it from right here. He could raise his hand and—

“Aw, come on,” Calrissian said, smiling up at him. “You’ve got me so curious.”

Kylo shook his head. His hand twitched at his side.

“Is it a secret? You can trust me, Ren. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kylo snapped.

“But how are you going to eat?”

Calrissian reached forward and lifted the shining gold cover from one of the trays. A steaming platter of roasted meat lay beneath; Kylo couldn’t quite smell it, but it looked delicious.

“I wasn’t planning on eating,” Kylo said.

“Oh? What _were_ you planning on doing?”

The look Calrissian gave him made Kylo wonder if he knew. Kylo turned away from that suddenly penetrating gaze, raised his hand, and used the Force to crush the transmitter where it lay on the table.

“I see,” Calrissian said quietly. “Well. In that case. How about a last request?”

Kylo let out a startled laugh. “I’m not here to kill you,” he said.

“No?”

“I told you why I’m here,” Kylo said. “To find Luke. Skywalker,” he amended quickly.

Calrissian noticed. “You know him,” he said.

Kylo spun on his heel, turning his back to Calrissian. It was instinctive; it wasn’t as though Calrissian could see the look on his face. Kylo balled his hands into fists and tried to breathe slowly. Controlled.

“Does he owe you money?” Calrissian asked.

Kylo scoffed. “Something like that.”

“Luke’s a good guy. I’m sure he means to pay you back.”

He wasn’t. He didn’t. It would be a lot simpler if he did. But instead of looking for Kylo, Luke had just...disappeared.

“He never wants to see me again,” Kylo said.

There was a pause. Then, “Do you know _me_?” Calrissian asked.

Slowly, Kylo turned around. He raised his hand, stretching it out toward Calrissian’s forehead. He’d wasted so much time already. He didn’t know why he hadn’t already started the interrogation.

Calrissian dropped his eyes to Kylo’s hand, licked his lips, and looked back to the eyeslit of the mask. “You _do_ know me,” he said.

“I do,” Kylo confirmed. His hand shook a little.

“Then take off the mask.” Calrissian set his jaw.

Kylo kept his arm extended, but he did not reach out with the Force. Calrissian’s gaze never faltered. Finally, chewing his lips, Kylo pulled his hand back. After a moment of deliberation, he reached for the releases at the underside of his helmet.

There was a hiss as the faceplate dropped. Kylo tugged the helmet off and away in a single quick movement, clenching his teeth. He couldn’t quite meet Calrissian’s eyes.

“Oh,” Calrissian said, and Kylo heard him suck in a breath. “Oh, fuck. You’re—”

“Kylo Ren,” Kylo said quickly.

“You’re alive,” Calrissian said, as if Kylo hadn’t spoken. He stood, stepped close, gazed up at Kylo in apparent wonderment. Kylo felt as though he were frozen in place by the Force.

And then Lando’s hand was on Kylo’s face, warm and only a little calloused, thumb brushing his cheek. Kylo knew that hand.

“Kylo Ren,” Lando repeated, voice soft. Kylo finally managed to raise his eyes, and he found only a strange sort of joy on Lando’s face. “Little starfighter,” Lando whispered.

Kylo closed his eyes against sudden burning. “No,” he said roughly. “Just Kylo.”

“Kylo,” Lando said. He was still stroking Kylo’s cheek. “Kylo.”

Kylo felt his lower lip trembling. It was pathetic. He screwed his eyes shut tighter, willed himself to calm the fuck down for once.

“They didn’t tell me,” Lando said. “Han and Leia. They didn’t tell me what happened to you.”

Kylo let out a snort, but it sounded more like a loud sniffle. “I wish I could say I was surprised,” he said, more tremulously than he would have liked. “But of course they didn’t. That would be too embarrassing.”

“I thought you were dead,” Lando said, and now he reached up with his other hand, so that he was holding Kylo’s face in both hands. Kylo opened his eyes to see Lando staring at him like he was some sort of incredible gift. “I always wished I’d told you to stay, that last time, when you wanted to. I always regretted telling you to go.” Lando squeezed Kylo’s cheeks gently. His eyelashes were sparkling. Tears, Kylo realized. “But you’re alive.”

Kylo drew a slow breath. “Kylo Ren is alive,” he said firmly. “Ben Solo is—”

“Okay,” Lando said. “Okay.” His eyes dropped briefly. “I understand. Kylo.” He looked up again. “I’m glad you’re alive. I’m glad to see you.”

“I’m—” _glad to see you too_ , Kylo didn’t let himself say. What was _wrong_ with him? He should say that he’d meant to kill Luke, and he _had_ killed all the students who’d come after him, and since then he’d killed so many more, and one day he would kill Luke too. If he said it, Lando would hate him, just like everyone else. He should say it.

It occurred suddenly to Kylo that this mission must be yet another of Leader Snoke’s tests.

He couldn’t keep the hot tears from rolling down his cheeks now. Scowling, Kylo tried to blink them away. Lando wrapped a hand around the back of Kylo’s neck and pulled Kylo’s face into his shoulder, stroking his hair over and over, letting Kylo’s tears dampen his cape. “Shh,” Lando said. “It’s all right.” Kylo trembled, fists shaking at his sides. “Come on,” Lando said, putting an arm around Kylo’s waist. “This way.”

Kylo’s boots scuffed along the floor as Lando guided him out of the dining area, through the sitting area, and into the luxurious sleeping chamber. “Lie down, Kylo,” Lando encouraged. Kylo didn’t want to, but he found himself doing it anyway. He rolled onto his side away from Lando, putting his head on one of the pillows and pulling his knees up toward his chest. Lando patted his shoulder, then worked Kylo’s boots off, one and then the other. “There you are,” Lando said. “That’s better.” He sat down behind Kylo, his hip warm against Kylo’s lower back, and his hand came up to Kylo’s hair, fingers combing through it gently.

Kylo hugged his elbows. This was pathetic. Supreme Leader would punish him severely for this weakness. He needed to get up. He needed to immobilize Lando with the Force, rip the secret of where Luke was from his mind. Go back out to the dining room and wipe the droid. No—destroy it, just to be sure. Then leave this place. Go back to the _Absolution_ and hitch a ride to the _Supremacy_.

“I’ve missed you,” Lando said quietly. “I’ve lost so many people I’ve loved. But I didn’t lose you after all. I’m so glad I didn’t lose you. The civil war was hell. You were the best thing to come out of it. You made it all worth it.”

Kylo tried to respond with a retort, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a pitiful sob.

“I thought it was wrong, the way I felt,” Lando said, his voice even quieter now. His fingers were so, so gentle in Kylo’s hair. “I’m still not sure it wasn’t. I’d watched you grow up. You used to call me Uncle Lando. I didn’t want to...take advantage of that. Of you. That’s why I said what I said, when you left. But then I thought you were dead—” Lando let out a choked-off noise, then cleared his throat. His fingers kept brushing back through Kylo’s hair. “And I thought, I should have told you. I should have let you stay. I should have _asked you_ to stay.”

The gentle support of the bed’s expensive mattress was almost like an embrace. Beneath his cheek, the satiny-soft pillow was smooth and cool. Lando was a solid presence behind him. Kylo closed his eyes and let out a long breath and remembered the last time the dead boy had come here.

~

“You want _me_ to carry this?” Ben turned the Rossmoyne Vitiator blaster pistol over and over in his hands. It was beautiful, perfectly weighted with an elegant profile and intricate, engraved scrollwork along the grip. It looked like an antique, yet it was well cared for and seemed as though it would have no problem firing. “What if I drop it or something? It’s probably worth more than I am.”

Lando frowned at him. “Ben,” he said, “you’re worth more than a million blasters. But yes. You’ll carry the Vitiator. It’s yours, after all.”

Ben blinked in surprise. “What do you mean, it’s mine?”

“I mean, I’ve intended to give that blaster to you since before you were born.”

“What?”

Lando’s grin was so broad Ben wondered if it hurt his face. “I’ve kept it in a locker for you ever since the liberation of Bespin. That blaster fired the very last shot in that conflict.”

“Whoa.” Ben looked at the pistol again, tracing an engraved whorl with his finger. “But. I mean. Why would you give it to _me_?”

Ben was getting better at controlling how much he passively picked up other people’s surface emotions, but there were times when stronger feelings still broke through. Lando was conflicted, wanting to say one thing but determined to say another. Ben waited while he struggled, until he finally said, “Because, little starfighter, you deserve it.”

Ben frowned but didn’t press the point. He didn’t see how he deserved much of anything. He hadn’t accomplished anything significant in his twenty years of life, and he didn’t fit in anywhere. Not at the Jedi Temple, not in the Senate with his mother, not wherever his father and the _Millennium Falcon_ happened to be at any given moment. The closest to belonging he’d ever felt was…

Heat rose to Ben’s cheeks, spreading to the tips of his ears. He glanced at Lando and then quickly looked away.

Here. Somehow, he never felt out of place in Cloud City.

“So, you like it?” Lando asked.

“Hell,” Ben said. “It’s...of course I like it. Thank you so much.”

Lando waved him off. “I’m just sorry I didn’t give it to you sooner. Lobot kept telling me it wasn’t the right time. But if you’re old enough to carry a blaster, you’re old enough to own one.” He smiled one of his big, fond smiles, the ones that made Ben’s heart flutter and his stomach flip, and Ben blushed deeper.

Ben didn’t know how long it had been like this, how long being around Lando had been making his pulse quicken and his head light. It had probably been happening for as long as Ben had been visiting Cloud City, which so far had been every year since he was sent to live with Luke at nine years old. It felt like it had been happening his whole life.

All he knew for sure was that Lando was always so happy to see him. That Lando had taught him Dejarik and Sabacc and Six-Card Gizka Limit, and how to shoot a blaster, and proper table etiquette across a dozen cultures. That when Ben was visiting, Lando took time away from work to show him around the city, to travel around Bespin, to even occasionally make a short hyperspace jaunt outside the system; and to take Ben to restaurants and shows and casinos, even when he was technically too young.

And now Lando was giving him this priceless blaster, saying that it was always meant for him, that he deserved it.

“I’ll take good care of it,” Ben promised thickly, ducking his head and sliding the blaster into the holster Lando had provided.

“It’s yours,” Lando said, squeezing his shoulder. The touch sent a thrill straight through Ben, all the way down to his toes. “Do whatever you want with it. But try to keep it in good working order while we’re on this mission, all right?”

“Okay,” Ben said.

~

His eyes were burning. He needed to blow his nose. He reached up automatically to rub at it as he sniffled.

The touch of strong, smooth black leather brought him back to himself. His glove. The glove of the master of the Knights of Ren.

Kylo blinked and pushed off the bed, moving to sit up.

“You all right?” Lando asked quietly. Kylo’s movement had jostled his fingers from the top of Kylo’s head down to the back of Kylo’s neck. He began playing his fingertips through the hair there. Despite himself, Kylo pressed back into the touch.

“I’m fine,” Kylo said flatly.

“Do you want to go back to the table? Get something to eat?”

This was apparently too difficult a question. Kylo felt his lips trembling.

“Are you hungry?” Lando asked. Kylo knew the answer to that one; he nodded silently. “All right. I’ll call the droids back, they can bring the food to us here.”

“No,” Kylo said. He couldn’t allow anyone else to see him like this. Without his mask.

“Okay,” Lando said. His fingers set to massaging the back of Kylo’s neck. “I can probably carry one of the dishes in.”

“No,” Kylo said again. The problem was the food not being near the bed. He could solve that easily. He closed his eyes, raised his hand, cast his mind back to the table. Felt the Force flowing around it, through it, between it and himself.

There was a mild clatter of dishes and a droid squawk of surprise. A few moments later, he heard Lando suck in a breath. He opened his eyes and guided the table through the wide archway connecting the bedroom to the rest of the suite, settling it next to the bed in front of where Lando was sitting.

Lando tore his eyes away from the table, turning his head to look at Kylo. “I’ve seen...things like that, before,” Lando said. “I’ve even seen _you_ do things like that before. But somehow, it’s always a surprise.”

Kylo laughed, startling himself. Lando laughed too, and the way his face lit up woke butterflies in Kylo’s stomach he’d thought long dead.

They sat facing each other on the bed, Kylo cross-legged in the center and Lando against the headboard with his legs stretched out. They were close enough to touch, with Lando’s ankles resting just past Kylo’s hips. One by one, Kylo floated the dishes over to rest between them, and they quietly picked at the proteins and greens and starches, eating their fill. Lando’s gaze never strayed far from Kylo’s face. He looked joyful and amazed and wistful in turns. Kylo could swear he could feel Lando’s accelerated heartbeat.

The dead boy had never seen Lando in bed like this. He’d seen Lando in bunks on any number of ships, including the _Millennium Falcon_ , but he’d never been in Lando’s actual bedroom, never seen him sprawled out in a place of comfort.

Kylo wondered if that was related to the things Lando had said earlier. His own heartbeat picking up, he moved his free hand down to his side, settling it on top of Lando’s shin.

Lando inhaled sharply. He glanced down at Kylo’s hand, back up to Kylo’s face. He wet his lips with his tongue. Then he reached forward and put his own hand on top of Kylo’s.

~

The “mission” had seemed straightforward, even routine...but it turned out there was a reason the control chips Lando wanted for his droid factories were so deeply discounted. The entire shipment was contraband, stolen by pirates, and no fewer than three rival gangs were all after it.

In the end, Ben and Lando barely managed to snag a single chip, and to get away with that, they had to all-out run down the winding corridor that led back to where Lando’s yacht was docked, a hail of laser fire all around them.

They were both out of breath when they threw themselves into the bucket seats in the cockpit. They were also both laughing.

“Did you see how he—”

“I can’t believe they—”

“And she actually had a _wampa_ —”

They blasted out of port seconds before their pursuers made it to the hangar, swooping up sharply to speed out of the atmosphere. A few tense seconds later, they jumped to the safety of hyperspace.

Slumping down in their seats, Ben and Lando grinned at each other, panting hard.

“I haven’t had an adventure like that in years,” Lando said.

“You used to do stuff like this all the time, didn’t you?” Ben reached over and smacked Lando lightly on the arm. “I can’t believe you’ve never taken me on a mission before.”

“Didn’t want your parents to kill me,” Lando said cheerfully. “But I always knew you’d be a good partner.”

Ben sobered a bit. “We only got one chip,” he said, drawing the precious package out of the pocket of his vest.

“One chip is all we need,” Lando said. “More would have been nice. Definitely would have saved us some time. But my engineers can replicate this. Improve upon it. Eventually we’ll be making our own.”

Ben shook his head, a smirk twitching at his lips. “You knew it was stolen all along.”

“Hey,” Lando protested, “I’m a legitimate businessman.” He winked, eyes sparkling, and Ben felt the back of his neck go flush.

Uncle Luke was waiting when they made it back to Cloud City, standing on the landing pad with his hands on his hips. He looked just as disapproving as ever as they descended the ramp, face severe in the red light of the setting sun.

“Sorry for keeping him out so late,” Lando said, taking Luke’s hand as if to shake it but then pulling him into a hug. “We lost track of time.”

Ben hoped Uncle Luke didn’t notice how much he was blushing. The way Lando had phrased that…

“No, no,” Luke said mildly, stepping back from the hug and glancing at Ben. “I hope you had a good time. I just get a little nervous, is all.”

“I understand,” Lando said. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to him.”

“I know.” Luke smiled and turned to Ben. “You ready to go?”

“Right now?” Ben blurted.

“Right now,” Luke confirmed. “There’s something we need to do before we head back.”

Ben glanced at Lando, who suddenly looked grim. He chewed his lips. “I’m all packed, but...can you give me a minute?”

Luke seemed to deliberate for a moment. “All right,” he said finally. “Five minutes. I’ll wait for you on the ship.”

Ben waited until Luke had boarded the nondescript transport vessel he used for supply runs, the ship that had shuttled Ben back and forth from Cloud City for ten years now. Then he turned his back so Luke wouldn’t be able to see his face from the cockpit. Fingers twisting together, Ben drew a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts.

“I’ll miss you,” Lando said, putting his hand on Ben’s elbow. “Your visits never seem long enough.” He shook his head. “But what you’re doing is important. And I’m glad I get to see you at all.”

“I don’t want to leave,” Ben said. He bit his lip at Lando’s look of surprise. “I know being a Jedi is important,” he hurried to add. “I just...I like it here. I wish I could stay.”

The words sounded so weak. They didn’t come close to what Ben was feeling, but he didn’t know how else to say it.

“I do too,” Lando admitted. He squeezed Ben’s elbow.

The words gave Ben courage. He steeled himself. “I _could_ stay,” he said, heart thumping rapidly in his chest.

Lando’s mouth fell open. His throat contracted in a swallow. “Ben,” he said.

Ben felt it again, the conflict within Lando. Lando’s hand fell away from Ben’s elbow. Ben moved a half-step closer, put his hands on Lando’s shoulders. “Lando,” he whispered urgently. But more words wouldn’t come.

He had to tell him. He had to, somehow—

Ben tightened his grip on Lando’s shoulders, sucked in a breath, and leaned in.

He’d imagined what this would be like, dreamed of it, wished for it. But he’d never kissed anyone before. And so the shock of Lando’s mouth moving beneath his—parting, tasting him—sent a thrill through his entire body, a sensation he never could have been prepared for. Lando’s emotions were alight with pleasure, dancing into Ben’s mind unguardedly, unconflicted for the first time. Ben gasped and pressed deeper, closer, and Lando let out a groan that electrified Ben to his core—

And then Lando’s hands were shoving at his chest. Lando was pushing him away.

Their lips broke apart. Ben gasped for breath. Dizzy, confused, he tried to move back in, but Lando turned his head to the side and said, “No.”

“Why?” Ben blurted. He wanted nothing more than to be kissing Lando, to be pressed up against him, to hold him, to touch him, and now he was absolutely certain Lando wanted the same thing.

“I can’t, Ben.” Lando wouldn’t look at him. “You deserve better than an old man like me.”

“But—”

“I’m sorry,” Lando said, and he lowered his head.

Ben’s chest felt tight. Wet. His eyes filled with tears. “Lando,” he said miserably.

“Luke’s waiting,” Lando said.

Ben let go of Lando’s shoulders. Stepped back. Sucked in a shuddering breath. Stared at Lando as the tears began burning tracks down his face.

“I’ll see you next year,” Lando said, folding his arms and looking up finally. His face was closed. Blank. There was no trace of warmth, no twinkle in his eye. Ben didn’t want Lando to look at him like this.

Ben’s lips trembled as anger flooded his veins. He was suddenly very aware of the weight of the blaster at his hip. He fought the holster free from his belt and dropped it and the priceless blaster to the ground.

Lando didn’t say anything. Didn’t move to pick up the blaster. Didn’t react at all.

Ben spun in place and stormed to Luke’s ship.

He didn’t know it then, but his first encounter with the Knights of Ren awaited him. This had been the last time Lando would ever see Ben Solo.

~

“You really wanted to tell me to stay,” Kylo said, floating the last dish of food back to the table so that there was nothing left separating him from Lando.

“I did,” Lando said quietly. “I’m—I’m so sorry.”

Kylo shifted onto his knees and moved up the bed until he was right between Lando’s legs, looming over him, one hand on the headboard and the other coming up to graze gloved fingertips along the side of his neck. Lando’s breath was coming faster now, lips slightly parted as he gazed up into Kylo’s eyes.

Ben Solo was weak. He could never have what he wanted.

Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren, could have everything.

When Kylo kissed Lando, Lando curled his fingers into Kylo’s cowl and pulled him closer. Moaned into Kylo’s mouth and kissed him harder. Groped a hand down to Kylo’s hip and pulled at it urgently. When Kylo shifted forward to straddle Lando’s lap, Lando was just as hard as he was. Kylo grunted and ground down and they both gasped into the kiss.

“Show me what you want,” Kylo murmured, raising the hand at Lando’s neck to hover at his temple. _Let me in_ , he thought, directing the words into Lando’s mind. _It’ll hurt if you fight it_. Lando took a breath and let it out in a long sigh, and as Lando relaxed below him, Kylo sank smoothly into his thoughts. Lando was heady with arousal, his mind a cacophony of excited little bursts that kept building and building. The image of Kylo was jumbled—sometimes he was masked, sometimes he wasn’t, sometimes he was wearing the dead boy’s clothes. But the scenario was always the same, burned into Lando’s thoughts as though he’d imagined it many times.

It was...unexpected.

Lando dreamed of muscular arms, thick thighs, strong hands. Of his head being forced into place by those hands, gripped tightly as his mouth was forced open and fucked over and over. Of choking as Kylo’s cock rammed deep into his throat. Of being manhandled, turned and shoved face-down and taken hard from behind; of Kylo slamming into him mercilessly, holding him down with one hand and gripping his hip with the other so hard it bruised. Of Kylo reaching around to wrench an orgasm out of him, jerking his cock to the point of pain. Of screaming and clenching, squeezing Kylo’s cock just like Kylo wanted. Of Kylo grunting and releasing inside him, marking him.

Lando dreamed of Kylo wanting him to the point of desperation, and of Kylo taking what he wanted.

Unbidden, the things the dead boy had imagined surfaced, rolled in like a fog to permeate their linked minds.

Slowly, Lando undressed Kylo, kissing each newly bare expanse of skin. His neck was exposed, his collarbone, his chest, his shoulder; Lando’s mouth was everywhere, tasting him as if he were a delicacy. It moved lower and lower, until finally Lando was nuzzling between Kylo’s bare thighs, running his tongue up along the fattening length of Kylo’s cock. Sucking him sweetly down, petting up and down his thighs. Surrounding him with comforting, wet warmth and gently dragging more and more pleasure out of him with sucks and swallows and swirls of tongue. Drawing off before Kylo came. Gently pushing Kylo’s knees to his chest. Lowering his mouth to Kylo’s taint and then to Kylo’s ass, lavishing him with kisses and licks. And finally, with Kylo mewling and twitching beneath him, sinking his cock into Kylo’s body, deeper and deeper, fucking Kylo open so tenderly that Kylo came untouched.

It was so very different from what Lando wanted. Foolish. Weak. Kylo’s consciousness slunk away from Lando’s mind, his face burning with shame. But:

“Fuck,” Lando breathed, eyes dark. “I can do that. I can do that for you.”

“I do,” Kylo said nonsensically. _Want you_ , he thought. His heart felt like it might explode.

Lando tugged at the fingertips of Kylo’s gloves, loosened them, slid them slowly off one by one. He brought Kylo’s bare fingers to his mouth, kissed and sucked Kylo’s fingertips. With trembling hands, Kylo unhooked Lando’s cape, rucked up Lando’s shirt to spread his hands over Lando’s belly, opened Lando’s belt and then opened Lando’s pants. Lando parted the lower flaps of Kylo’s tunic and worked Kylo’s trousers open, reached in to find him. Kylo arched his back and hissed and kissed Lando again, parted Lando’s lips with his tongue as his fingers sought out Lando’s cock.

They explored each other’s mouths, lips and tongues and teeth moving more and more insistently, breath coming harder and harder. Lando’s thumb came up to Kylo’s slit, rubbed slow circles that made Kylo shudder. Kylo did the same to Lando, smearing the slick precome he found there all around the tip, all over the head. They wrapped fingers around each other and squeezed upward, gently at first and then harder, pumping each other’s lengths as they panted into each other’s mouths. And just like that, shaking and gasping, they came in each other’s hands.

~

When Kylo woke, he was curled around Lando’s back, his tunic discarded and his trousers halfway down his legs. Lando’s cape, boots, and pants were gone, but he was still wearing his yellow shirt; Kylo slid his hand up under it to stroke the skin of his chest.

“Hello,” Lando said sleepily, turning his head so that his face was close to Kylo’s. “Is it time?”

“Time for what?” Kylo asked, pinching Lando’s nipple lightly.

Lando let out a pleased sound. “I don’t know,” he said, turning in Kylo’s arms to fully face him. “Whatever comes next.” He wrapped an arm around Kylo’s waist. “I didn’t say it before,” he murmured. “I always regretted it. I’m saying it now: Stay.”

Longing filled Kylo. He kissed Lando again, deeply. He could do it. He could stay here.

Except he couldn’t. Not really. He’d started down a certain path. He’d already taken certain steps. There was no way to leave the path now; there was no way to turn back.

He would push on. He would continue under Leader Snoke’s guidance. He would make his grandfather proud.

Kylo pulled away from the kiss. He couldn’t meet Lando’s eyes.

“Oh,” Lando said. “I see.” His fingers petted along Kylo’s back. “I guess we missed each other again, huh?”

Much to his chagrin, Kylo sniffled. “Where is Luke?” he asked roughly. It was time for him to get on with things.

Lando’s lips compressed into a line. “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”

“He tried to kill me first,” Kylo said. “It’s only fair.”

“What _happened_?” Lando asked.

Kylo shook his head. “It’s in the past. Now, I’m only concerned with the future. With the First Order’s mission.” He drew a long breath. “Where is Luke Skywalker?”

Lando gave him a sad smile. “If I knew, you’d have to torture it out of me. The way Vader tortured your parents.”

“You said I was a very different man from Vader,” Kylo reminded him. “And you’re right. I’ve already surpassed him.” He raised his hand, held it near Lando’s face. “I can take whatever I want.”

Lando blinked, drew a shaky breath. Looked at Kylo’s bare fingers, the ones he’d had his mouth on mere hours before. Turned his eyes back to Kylo’s. “It hurts if you fight it,” he said.

“Yes.”

“I’m going to fight it, Kylo.”

Kylo ran his tongue over his teeth. “So you do know.”

“No.”

Letting out an exasperated huff, Kylo shifted forward, moved his hand closer. “Then show me you don’t. If you’re innocent, you have nothing to fear.” He softened his voice, let his fingers stroke along Lando’s cheek. “You know how to let me in. Just let me in again, and it won’t hurt.”

Lando abruptly turned away from him, rolling onto his other side to face the wall. “Not like this.”

Kylo swallowed, extended his hand again. “You’re forcing me to—”

“I’m not forcing you to do anything,” Lando retorted. “If you torture me, it’s because you choose to.”

Kylo closed his eyes and took a breath. The anger was rising in him now. That was good; anger made him powerful. Anger helped him not lose sight of his true goals.

He stared hard at Lando and extended his hand.

~

Supreme Leader Snoke was smiling almost as soon as the holoconnection was established. “You have done well, Kylo Ren,” he said.

“Calrissian doesn’t know where Skywalker is,” Kylo reported.

“I didn’t think he would,” Snoke said. “This was a test. A test, my dear boy, that you have passed with flying colors.”

Hatred roiled in Kylo’s stomach. He knew he should respect and admire his master, and he did...but Snoke’s constant tests were growing tiresome. They weren’t real missions. They weren’t even training. They were Snoke’s clumsy way of severing Kylo from the dead boy’s past.

At least Kylo had recognized this one early.

“Return to me at once,” Snoke ordered. “I have a mission for you and your knights.”

Kylo bowed his head. “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

The holographic image of Snoke faded away, and Kylo rose to his feet to make one last trip into the sleeping chamber. His officers would collect the few belongings he’d brought, the robes and hygiene products and the holoprojector in the sitting area, and Kylo’s lightsaber was already clipped to his belt. All Kylo needed to retrieve was his comlink, and then he could be on his way to the shuttle.

The comlink was in the drawer of the bedside table. He opened the drawer, withdrew the comlink, and raised it to his mouth to give the withdrawal order.

Then he paused, swiveling his gaze to where Calrissian still lay in his bed.

Lando had expected the worst, and Kylo had mentally prepared to give it to him: to invade his mind and rip the information out of him. He’d made sure that both the intention of torturing Lando and the image of raising his hand to do so were burned into his memory—and that they were at the forefront of his thoughts when his call to Snoke connected. And just as it had in the cave on Dagobah months ago, when Snoke had raised visions of the dead boy’s parents for him to kill, Kylo’s subterfuge had worked. All he’d killed in the cave were trees. And all he’d done here in Cloud City was put Lando back to sleep.

Lando probably didn’t know where Luke was. Even if he did, it didn’t matter. Finding Luke now was Snoke’s priority. But Kylo knew it was only a matter of time until he and Luke crossed paths again. When the will of the Force brought them together, he would be ready.

In the meantime, he would allow Snoke to think Kylo was his pawn. Just as Luke had thought to control his power. Just as the dead boy’s parents had believed they could dictate his future. One day, Kylo would discard them all, and then nothing would stand in his way.

Gently, Kylo drew the blanket up around Lando’s sleeping form. He could hear Lando’s quiet breath, see his chest slowly rising and falling. He was facing away from Kylo, just as he’d been mere hours earlier, when Kylo had fallen asleep holding him. It would be so easy to curl back around him now.

But it was not yet time. It wouldn’t be time until Kylo was crowned galactic emperor. When that happened, Lando would understand everything Kylo had done.

Then Kylo would return to Cloud City, and he’d never have to leave again.

**Author's Note:**

> My utmost gratitude to lyss, Dracadancer, and nachosgood for taking a look at this fic for me and offering essential feedback.
> 
> This fic attempts to be canon compliant with the films _The Empire Strikes Back_ , _Solo_ , _The Force Awakens_ , and _The Last Jedi_ ; the books _Aftermath_ , _Last Shot_ and _Phasma_ ; and the comic _Age of Resistance: Supreme Leader Snoke_. It will likely be jossed by _The Rise of Kylo Ren_ and _The Rise of Skywalker_. As always, [Wookieepedia](https://starwars.fandom.com/) proved to be an invaluable resource.
> 
> The title of this fic comes from Thomas Wolfe’s _You Can’t Go Home Again_.
> 
> Moodboard credits: Kylo image from _The Force Awakens_ ; Lando image from his _The Rise of Skywalker_ character poster; Cloud City images from [starwars.com](https://www.starwars.com/databank/cloud-city); unmade bed photo by [Silvie Tittel](https://unsplash.com/photos/tuQWhQuaCO0); Lando's blaster from [Wookieepedia](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/X-8_Night_Sniper); [an antique flintlock pistol owned by the MET](https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/26555) serves as the [Vitiator](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Rossmoyne_Vitiator_pistol); starfields courtesy [NASA](https://www.nasa.gov/multimedia/imagegallery/index.html). Fonts used: [Undercover](https://www.dafont.com/undercover.font), [Sitka](https://docs.microsoft.com/en-us/typography/font-list/sitka), and [Century Gothic](https://fonts.adobe.com/fonts/century-gothic).


End file.
